The 2,402,796,092 VegetaBulma Fanfic
by Bribadi
Summary: Takes place in the mysterious 7 years after the Cell Games--B/V (duh). *Chapter 1 posted! And a gurl came!!!!!!!! And she wuz rilly pritty!!!!!!! And she wuz rilly strong!!!!!!*
1. Prologue

I have a new fic!

I haven't finished my old one! Maybe someday I will!

Hurrah for me!

This fic takes place immediately after the Cell Games end. First, the prologue.

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Gohan had won. Gohan had defeated Cell.

Cell was dead. Gohan had defeated him.

Kakkarott was also dead. But Gohan was stronger.

Vegeta flew from the battlefield in a daze. Now he was in the training room. He should train. Kakkarott was dead.

Vegeta was the strongest.

But no. Gohan had defeated Cell. Kakkarott's son was the strongest.

The boy was eleven. A Super Saiyan. Beyond a Super Saiyan.

He stood in the middle of the gravity chamber, his hand on the controls. He should turn them on. He should train. He should get stronger.

But all he could do was stand in the middle of the room with his hand on the controls, staring blankly at the glowing '1G'. 

Three years of training. He had reached Super Saiyan. And then another year and more in the Room of Space and Time. And the boy was stronger.

Stronger.

Vegeta stood in the middle of the gravity chamber, his hand on the controls. He had never felt so lost.

The door opened. The safety switch turned on. He could not raise the gravity. His hand was on the controls. He stared at the '1G'.

Someone had him from behind. He did not move. Arms encircled his waist, a head was buried in his neck. He could feel hot tears on his skin. It was a long time before she let go.

"Vegeta." The sobs had stopped. Heels clicked on the chamber's hard floor. The door closed. The safety mechanism turned off.

He turned on the gravity and began to train.


	2. Enter the Saiyan

Recap of what I said in the prologue. Everyone knows what happens in those magic three years--but what about the mysterious seven after the Cell Games? After all, our two crazy lovebirds aren't married yet . . .

This happens directly after the Cell Games. I _am_ using an OC. And yes—you could "call" her Mary-Sue. Emphasis on the "talking" definition of call.

This chapter was out so quick 'cause I was working on it along with the prologue. In the future I'll be getting them out probably around once every two weeks to a month. After all, I have colleges to apply to!

The fun begins now.

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Vegeta came, a tiny black dot against the white wall. He could tell the energy wave was lessening and Capsule City would only get its weakest edge. _But even that would be enough_. There was what was left of the house. The woman and the boy leaning against a rock pile. They were not moving. Something akin to despair ripped through his gut. But no—the brat was crying! And as he drew closer, he saw Bulma was struggling to stand up and meet him! _Stupid woman!_ Vegeta picked her and the boy up and threw them behind the rocks.

"Get down!" he roared, and only had time to heave himself onto them before the burning light washed over everything, striking him blind and the roar of the wind drowning out his son's screams.

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MONTHS EARLIER... 

Mirai Trunks had just left the bathroom when he heard a knock on the front door. They were all waiting out back, but he couldn't leave the person standing there. "Mother!" he called as he reached for the knob. "There's someone at the door for..." His voice trailed off at the heavenly vision on the front stoop.

Kneeling before him was the loveliest girl he had ever seen—long hair the color of a raven's wing, a heart-shaped face of the most delicate construction, obsidian eyes bright with intelligence, a body slender and curvaceous with slight and sexy muscle definition. These observations culminated into the realization that this was the scientist-humanitarian-fighter-yet-suffering-from-a-secret-inner-torment-and-in-need-of-his-tender-care soul mate he had never been searching for his entire life. So busy was he contemplating their future together that he didn't stop to wonder how he could notice all these qualities if she was still kneeling, her eyes on the ground.

The girl jumped up, obviously embarrassed. "Servant boy! Where is your King?"

Trunks was startled out of his fangirl-induced hallucination. He gulped and looked up…and up…and up…where a scarred woman as tall as Piccolo with the build of a fighter was looking at him as if he was a particularly nasty bug she needed to squash.

"What?"

She repeated the question.

"I—I don't have a king. And I'm not a servant."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Does milord Vegeta live here?"

"_Vegeta_ is here."

"Then he is your King. And your are obviously a human, which means you are his servant. I won't mention your disrespect to him, but I suggest you hold your smart tongue in the future. Take me to King Vegeta."

Dazed, Trunks let her into the house and indicated that she should wait in the hallway. Minutes ago, he was preparing to leave for his own time after a day of recuperation from the Cell Games. Now, a giant was calling him "servant boy" and demanding to be taken to his father, who she referred to as King. He stumbled out into the garden, where his friends were waiting to tell him goodbye.

Bulma smiled. "You're back! The time machine's all powered up—are you ready to go?"

The man shook his head. Perhaps it was a dream. "I'm ready. Thank you, Mother!"

"Take care."

Everyone called out his or her farewells. Dearest to the young man was the two fingers his father held up as the boy entered the time machine. He activated the controls and took off.

After Trunks' departure it took only a few minutes for everyone to disperse—after the stress of the last three years, all were ready to get back to their normal lives. Bulma gave a last farewell to Gohan, then opened the door to go inside.

"You coming?"

Vegeta was still leaning against the tree, looking at the spot where the time machine had disappeared. He grunted.

"Whatever." Bulma began to coo at the baby in her arms. "Well, he can stay out there a little while longer. There'll be plenty of other times for him to learn how to change your diaper, right, my little Trunks? We'll change your diaper and then give you some nice mashed peas—you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Bulma opened the door from the kitchen to the hallway and almost dropped the child. There was a seven-foot-tall wild woman standing in the foray. And she did not look happy. _Hmm,_ _maybe it would be best to feed Trunks first_. But, alas, her retreat was too slow.

"You there! Come here!"

Bulma trembled and cracked the door back open.

"Servant woman, I have been waiting here at least ten minutes for an audience with the King. Now, will he see me or not?"

Indignation quickly replaced fear. "Uh-huh. Servant. Exactly who are you referring to?"

"Are all of the servants in this household insolent? Really, isn't your master a little more strict?"

Bulma leaned the baby against her hip and glared at the intruder. "My _master_? Who do you think you are, marching into my home like this?"

"Now it's _your_ home? Woman, are you going to let me see King Vegeta or not?"

__

KING Vegeta? Wild thoughts ran through Bulma's head. She quickly surveyed the person before her. Muscular. Braided black hair as long and wild as Radditz's. Black eyes. And—her stomach dropped—a tail wrapped neatly around her waist. _Oh no, why do I suddenly feel like I've entered some horrible plot device from which there is no escape?_ "There is no person of that name here."

"You're lying. I can feel his ki. Is he sleeping? Is he training? Why do you refuse to take me to him?"

__

Forget it. Vegeta can deal with this. "I'll get him. Just wait there." She returned the kitchen and placed Trunks in his high chair. The baby understandably objected to sitting in his own waste and began to cry. After unsuccessfully trying to quiet him, the mother gave up and went outside to get Vegeta.

"Vegeta!" He ignored her. Bulma grabbed his ear and shouted into it. "VEGETA!"

"Augh!" Vegeta jumped and slapped her hand away. "What is it?"

"Inside. NOW."

The Saiyan gave her a questioning look. A scream came from the house. Bulma gasped. "Mom! Dad!" After waiting for the woman to go inside, he followed her to the source of the disturbance.

__

What is that ki? It seems…familiar.

Before him Bulma was comforting her hysterical mother and bewildered father. Standing over them was a powered-up female getting ready to blast them into oblivion.

"Why is this so hard for you? I come here, I ask to see the King, and all of you greet me with impudence? Does he control you through beatings? Do I have to resort to that?" Suddenly, she caught notice of Vegeta. Before he could blink, she had powered down and prostrated herself before him. "Milord! It is good to see you again."

__

Milord? King? Vegeta's heart leapt as Bulma's stomach had dropped. He saw the tail. A smirk spread across his face. _Could it be?_ "What did you call me?"

The woman dared to look up at him, radiating loyalty. "Milord. You are King Vegeta—I know it, you look so much like your father."

For a moment, the smirk turned into a full grin. Then Vegeta wiped his face of emotion and went into haughty-aristocrat mode. "Rise, servant of the Saiyan Royalty." As she stood, recognition set in. And then, stupefaction.

She wore Saiyan armor—but not any armor, the old Royal Guard armor of his boyhood days. His eyes passed over the gold and silver plating on the edges of the shoulders and the fastenings. No, High Royal Guard. It was scarred and in need of repair, but there was no mistaking it. And there was definitely no mistaking the person who stood before him. Age had not changed her face.

"Marisu."

"I wasn't sure if you'd recognize me, my King." She beamed with pleasure, but there was worry in her eyes at the cold fury in his reply. "I have returned."

"So I see. Go back to where you came from." Vegeta began to turn back towards the kitchen.

"Milord, wait! Let me explain! It was not as you think!"

He stopped and hissed. "First a traitorous coward, now a liar. I'm sure you can defile your office further. Go on!"

"Hear me out, milord! I am not a traitor!" Marisu screamed.

The Prince (King?) looked back at her. His face was twisted with disgust. "I will give you a few seconds to explain, then I want you gone."

"_Frieza_ is the liar. Despite what that _thing_ told you, we did not turn our backs on our people. He tricked us, I swear it."

Vegeta was unmoved.

"Frieza entrapped us! I only escaped a few months ago. Of course, I immediately began looking for your father. I learned he was dead, and so looked for you."

Her King laughed bitterly. "You expect me to believe that? If that is the case, where is the Guard? Where are those that accompanied you? Or were you the only one craven enough to return after you learned your master was destroyed?"

"They are dead. Long ago killed by Frieza's treachery. I swear by the Code and my Oath that all this is true and I have betrayed no one." She said hollowly.

Bulma had been watching this dialogue with openmouthed disbelief, and could no longer contain herself. "Is that right? Look, lady, I couldn't care less about your sob story. This is MY house. And you haven't yet told me who the hell are you and why you're here! You give me more information and an apology for terrorizing us or get out!"

Marisu glared. "'Your house' again? Servant woman, why do you tell such outrageous lies?"

"Get it through your thick skull! Do I look like a servant?"

"You look like an inferior too uppity by half." She stepped over to the other woman. "I am not of the school that favors violence as a means of controlling one's slaves, but thank your primitive gods that respect for my King prevents me from disciplining you."

The blue-haired woman was shooting sparks from her eyes. "Take your best shot, bitch!" she said, and slapped Marisu across the face.

It was all Vegeta could do to keep from laughing. He had to admire Bulma's guts—her opponent was at least a foot-and-a-half taller than her and obviously much stronger. _Of course, she doesn't care about my strength either_. He caught Marisu's descending hand.

"Stand down and answer her questions." He couldn't pass up this chance to humiliate the girl.

"Milord?" The taller woman shifted slightly to pull away from his grip.

He did not let go. "As your King, I order you to stand down and answer her questions!" Bulma shot him a gratified look, which he pretended not to notice.

Marisu took a step back, and straightened to make herself as imposing as possible. "I—"

"Politely."

The woman obeyed, and seemed to shrink a few inches—though it did not make her any less imposing. "I am Marisu of Planet Vegeta-sei, daughter of Celeka and Rubarx, Servant to the Royalty, Champion of the People, Holder of the Guard's Oath, Highest General of the King's Armies, Captain of the High Royal Guard of the Planet Vegeta and Right-Hand to the King himself. I have come from the Depths of Space after Many Years of Imprisonment to once again Come to the King's Service.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I apologize for my rudeness and any harm I may have done to you or your parents."

"That's better." Vegeta moved in front of her. "Kneel."

She did so.

"Guardsman Marisu, before I can allow you to reenter the Service I need a full accounting of all you have done. This will be held outside." He turned to Bulma. "Bring us some tea!"

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. Get your own."

"That's ridiculous. I am above such menial tasks."

__

Great, Bulma thought. _I spend three years deflating his ego and this girl ruins it all in five minutes._ She was about to send back a scathing retort when she realized Marisu had already gone into the kitchen. _Trunks!_

In the kitchen, a well-controlled ki ball already had the teapot whistling. Marisu was ignoring the screaming child entirely. Bulma picked him up and comforted him. "I've still got to change your diaper, don't I? Hey you! What are you doing?"

The Saiyan had begun to rummage through the cabinets. "Show me the tea bags."

Bulma walked over and grabbed them from a cupboard, then got out three cups. She slammed the door. "Take this out to his 'highness'. Don't say ANYTHING until I'm out there!" 

"I won't promise anything to a human."

The blue-haired woman groaned. _God, why do you do this to me? Another Saiyan!_ She carried the baby into his bedroom and changed his diaper, then went out to the garden, where Vegeta was sitting at a table drinking. The Saiyan was kneeling at his feet.

Bulma sat. "How long have you been at that?"

The woman did not answer. Vegeta grinned. "As long as I tell her to."

"You're not serious." A fly was crawling across the other woman's cheek, but she didn't even twitch. "You can get up now." The woman still did not move. "C'mon, get up!"

"She won't unless I let her."

"What the—well, let her get up! That's sick!"

The Prince reluctantly allowed the other woman to sit, and Bulma pushed a cup of tea over to her. The bizarre display had lessened her feelings of animosity.

"You may begin." Vegeta said.

She began to speak. "Shortly after you were given to Frieza, he sent you father a summons and ordered him to assemble the High Royal Guard. Frieza told us he had a special assignment; that he needed a planet of especially strong inhabitants taken out and we were the ones for the job. Of course we objected to leaving the King, but his Majesty ordered us to go.

"Separating us from the King was warning enough for me that Frieza was up to something, but even after I voiced my suspicions to the King his decision did not change. So I did nothing. Frieza told us he had "special" ships for us that would train us in our sleep during the trip to the planet. I was a fool and allowed my soldiers and myself to be put into the capsules.

"As soon as the doors were closed they filled up with gas. I blacked out—the next thing I knew I was in some sort of nightmare—tubes and needles and electrodes were stuck all over my body, and phrases like 'Obey Frieza' and 'Frieza is your Master' kept pounding through my head... and then everything went black again. I awoke inside the capsule. I blasted the door open and found my exit blocked by other shattered capsules—in the capsules were the Guard, and they were dead. We were all floating in a half-destroyed ship.

"I found an escape pod and began to look for your father. I caught up with some of Frieza's old men and found out what had happened—how King Vegeta was dead, you were missing, Frieza had been defeated by a Saiyan who was _not_ the crown prince. From what I could gather, Frieza had captured the High Royal Guard to get them out of the way for the time when he would destroy Planet Vegeta. Apparently, he tried to brainwash us, but when it didn't work he attempted to destroy us. My survival was by luck—the explosion that destroyed the capsules of my comrades threw their pods on top of mine and protected me from the blast.

"I have been tracking you down for two years. Milord, King Vegeta is dead. And now you are King, and I, last of the Guard, am here to serve you."

"That is the _dumbest_ story I have _ever_ heard. You expect us to believe that? How could you have been alive over thirty years ago, when you don't look any older than 20?" Bulma laughed.

Marisu stiffened. "I am not lying! The pod kept me in suspended animation! It prevented me from aging!"

"You know what I think? _I_ think you're the kid of some Saiyan who managed to escape the planet's destruction and ran away to screw an alien instead of showing some _backbone_ and actually _standing up_ for his species—"

The black-haired girl jumped up and slammed her hand on the table, breaking it in two. The other hand shot out and grabbed Bulma by the throat.

Vegeta had remained silent throughout the exchange, but now he latched on to the wrist of the other Saiyan. Her face whitened and there was the audible sound of cracking bone. Bulma dropped to the ground, rubbing her neck.

"Your ki tells me you are Marisu. And I know you were loyal to my father, so your wild explanation seems more reasonable than any I can think of. You will stay and serve your King as you were meant to." Bulma looked ready to blow, so he finished quickly. "Now go inside and wait at attention until I finish here."

"Thank you, milord." The woman left.

Vegeta sat back as the stream of curses from Bulma washed over him. After a couple of minutes the flow began to weaken and he stood up.

"—my house! Your own _son_ exposed to that kind of thing!"

He quickly moved around the table and grabbed her by the waist from behind to whisper in her ear. "You're so beautiful when you're angry."

If the comment made Bulma blush, her already red face hid it. The only indication that it fazed her was the momentary pause in her tirade—but she elbowed him in the stomach and pushed him away.

"Dammit, Vegeta! Don't you try that on me! You invited a crazy lady into my house—I won't forgive you."

"I can't make her leave. She'd probably kill herself."

"Don't be so dramatic."

He shrugged his shoulders. "No. Refusing her would be like saying she had disgraced the Royal House in some way. And that's cause for suicide."

Bulma rubbed her temples. "You're kidding me. Where are we going to put her? And what am I going to do with her? I can't possibly deal with another one of you."

Vegeta stiffened. The smoothness in his voice disappeared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means."

"If I did, would I be asking?"

"Get over yourself."

"Now, what's _that_ supposed mean?"

Bulma ignored him and got up. "If you insist on her staying, you need to keep her under control. She's obviously doesn't respond to an _inferior_ like myself."

Vegeta chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about that." A cruel smile spread across his face and he stared into the clear blue sky above him.

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